Moral Slavery
by Nogard
Summary: In an AU based on the first season three distopia, Claire has control of Pinehearst and has forced her partner Elle to be her slave. Claire, however, is convinced that this is moral because Elle's a sociopath. Not for faint of heart. Claire/Elle BDSM
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** First off, warning! This is very kinky and not for the faint of heart. It is, however, not just a PWP and does have some intellectual stuff about morality in regard to how we (the empathetic) should treat socio-/psychopaths. If that doesn't scare you off, enjoy.

* * *

I once heard some anti-animal-rights activists talking about how animals shouldn't have any rights because they have no souls. Your faithful dog, they say, is a sociopath at heart. If you weren't strong enough to fit the role of master, you'd fit the role of food.

I don't know about dogs—Mr. Muggles always seemed loyal enough—but I can definitely see that applying to some pets. Case in point: Elle Bishop.

"Hello, Ms. Bennet!" Elle chimes as I enter my fancy suite at my apartment at Pinehearst. She is dressed in her usual outfit: matching dark blue blouse, skirt, and heels, as well as her gold lightning bolt necklace and a smaller necklace of white quartz that contrasts well with her gunmetal collar. Her skirt is rather short and her blouse shows quite a bit of cleavage, which is testament to her slutty nature considering she was wearing it before I ever started brainwashing her. "May I take your jacket?"

"Hello, Elle." I smile politely, and I shrug the leather jacket from my shoulders in an invitation.

She slips behind me and gently removes the jacket. With a practiced finesse, she removes the jacket, folds it, and places it in the small hall closet. "Dinner's in the oven. I made that chicken recipe you liked."

"Is that what smells so good?" I walk into the living room and sink down on the couch. "Ah," I sigh in relief, raising my legs for her to tend to.

She kneels down and removes my shoes and socks. Setting them to the side, she pulls the footstool underneath my feet and begins to massage them. "Long day at the office?"

I smile as her fingers work the tension out of my muscles, and I chuckle at her comment. "Something like that. You remember that steampunk guy we dubbed a harmless nut? Not so much. Ever been attacked by tiny robots? Not fun."

She grins at the image. I can't tell if it's the image of the steampunk robots or me getting the shit kicked out of me that amuses her, probably both. "Hey, _I'd_ have just zapped them. Lightning works wonders on pesky electronics and people. So, what, did you kill him or…?" She says it casually, but I recognize the sparkle of bloodlust in her eyes.

"Bagged him," I reply. "He's in the zoo with the other incurables downstairs."

After Nathan Petrelli outed us to the world, the world became afraid very quickly. Specials are a very real threat to the human community, which makes us all very vulnerable. In this time of fear, human politicians have been rallying for specials to be turned into second-class citizens, forced to register as nonhumans and relegated into ghettos. It's like the return to fascism and we're in the middle of it. Nathan's been doing the best he can to keep the situation under control, and his focus has been on Pinehearst.

Nathan employs Pinehearst as a private police force to enforce the laws as they apply to specials. We keep an eye on specials with certain kinds of powers and make sure they don't get out of line. Minor infractions like Midases getting rich are ignored (hey, they'll devalue gold and then where will they be?), but invisible men and women are implanted with chips that let secure facilities know when they're in range (it's a slippery slope, but you have to admit it makes sense). Specials with dangerous or invasive powers are strictly monitored. Should a special ever become hostile, they earn a free vacation in the Pinehearst prison. Counselors and mind-controllers do their best to rehabilitate them, but sometimes they're just sociopathic and can never enter normal society. These incurables are either executed or locked away in the high-security basement level 9.

Well, mostly. Elle's a rare exception. I couldn't rehabilitate her, so I just domesticated her. I made her into my pet, involuntarily so. It sounds bad, but it isn't really.

You see, Elle's a sociopath. If someone offered her the chance to enslave _me_, she'd jump on it. I just managed to get on top first.

We were friends once upon a time, almost girlfriends, really. Together, we were Pinehearst's best agents. After a while, though, it became clear it wasn't exactly an equal partnership. Elle carefully manipulated me so that everything swung in her favor. She got the attention, the money, the credit, the sex. So often my personal items would go missing, only to later show up in her room. Sometimes she'd deliberately hurt my feelings, apologize, and do it again a few weeks later. The final straw was when she killed a special boy who was not significantly dangerous.

I couldn't bear to treat her like the other incurables, though. I liked her. I just made her… more likable. Seriously, who wouldn't like a beautiful woman pampering them all day? Elle was kind of fun before, now she's a total _joy_ to be with!

"Oh?" she asks politely and continues in a hopeful tone, "Well, if you need to torture him or anyone else for any reason, I'm your girl."

I nod. "Yeah, I'll remember that." Like I could forget. "Hey, how about a lemonade? I'm kind of thirsty."

She stands. "Certainly, Ms. Bennet."

While Elle fetches me my drink, I dig the remote control out from between the seat cushions and turn on the TV. NBC news crackles into being. The newscaster is cute. I listen for a bit as she talks about how my home state of Texas is offering specials $3,000 each to be sterilized, before I change the channel in disgust. I find some sitcom and lower the volume.

"Your lemonade, Ms. Bennet." Before handing me the drink, she takes a big gulp of it herself.

I nod with approval as I accept the drink. While I have less lemonade now, I'm grateful she showed me that it's safe to drink. The first few times I had her get me food and beverage, she got a bit rebellious and started trying to poison me, drug me, or just feed me various bodily fluids. That was totally unacceptable, and I trained the inclination out of her by having her sample everything herself.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Ms. Bennet?"

I smile at her and pat the seat next to me. "Come watch TV with me."

"Yes, Ms. Bennet." She cheerfully bounces over and plops down on the cushion beside me. She wiggles to get comfortable, rubbing her backside against my leg.

I grin at the silly girl and wrap an arm around her shoulders. I pull her up against me until she rests her head on my shoulder. I breathe in the scent of her hair and look closely at her pretty smile. Elle is so beautiful, and I have tamed her. She is mine.

"What's that, _Boy Meets World_?" she asks, causing a vibration through my bones. Her eyes look at the TV screen. She seemingly has taken my words at face value.

I never take my eyes off her face. "Maybe."

She opens her mouth to say something, but she never gets to it. Her shimmering lip gloss, her clean white teeth, her moist pink tongue, the shadows hinting of her treasures deeper within; it all becomes too much for me to handle, and I kiss her aggressively. She responds eagerly.

Elle is well trained and more than a bit slutty, so this is no problem for her at all. She slides up onto my lap to give me a better angle, putting her knees on either side of me. I wrap my other arm around her waist and keep her right where I want her. She's like my hot sex doll now.

It used to be different.

"_I want you on the bed naked in ten seconds," Elle stated. It was an order. The lusty look in her eyes made that very clear._

_Without giving the matter any consideration at all, I rushed to comply and started unbuttoning my blouse. Some future leader of Pinehearst I was. But this was Elle. We were partners, and I trusted her judgment. Apparently this meant she could boss me around whenever she got hot. And why was she so horny anyway? "Elle, you just had to kill someone."_

"_Did I say you could speak?" She snatched the blouse off my torso, ripping off a few buttons. Shoving me down on the bed, she got to work on my pants._

"_No, ma'am," I said, snapping my jaw closed. I inwardly cursed at myself for that. It didn't make sense to do what she said just because… what? Because she was Elle? She was hot. She was so hot._

_She pulled my pants off, and then climbed on top of me. Her lightning necklace dangled from her neck, and I watched it shimmer above me. She still had all her clothes on. It wasn't fair._

_It was also damn creepy that killing made her hot. I really wanted to say something, to tell her she shouldn't act this way after killing, that it was wrong, that I wasn't going to satisfy any lusts that came from bloodshed. I opened my mouth._

_She glared._

_I closed my mouth. I supposed it didn't matter. This was Elle. If she told me to do something… And she was on me… She wouldn't tell me to do anything that wasn't…_

_She took off my bra and panties, and then I was naked. And then her mouth was on mine. She wanted me to kiss her, and I did. _

The oven beeps, breaking me out of my reverie. I pull my mouth from Elle's with a smack. "You'd better see to that."

"Yes, Ms. Bennet." Elle slides off my lap. She does a quick curtsey. "Right away, Ms. Bennet."


	2. Chapter 2

After a few minutes of idle TV-watching and drink-sipping, Elle returns. She gives a polite curtsey and informs me that dinner is served. "Would you prefer to dine at the table or should I bring the food out here?"

"The table is fine," I tell her. I hold out my hand for her to take to help me stand. She takes it and pulls me up gently.

I recall a much rougher Elle, an Elle that would yank me around like a rag doll, dig her fingernails in my flesh, and send jolts of electricity through me. That Elle is gone. My Elle is much sweeter.

She's sweet in more ways than one. I lick my lips as I remember that sweet Elle taste.

Elle starts walking toward the dining area, but I grab her arm. Pulling her around, I kiss her aggressively again. When I get my fill and withdraw, she looks overjoyed. Of course she does. She's a sex toy that's fulfilled its purpose for the moment.

Releasing her arm, I head to the table. Elle has got it set up with a tablecloth, a heaping plate at my place, and an unlit candlestick in the center. "Nice presentation," I say. "If only you could've lit the candle first."

"Right. Sorry, Ms. Bennet," she says, darting into the kitchen area. She gets a box of matches and lights the candle. After returning the matchbox, she stands attentively at my side. "May I do anything else for you?"

What she really wants to know is if she can eat more than the few bites it takes to tell me my meal isn't roofied. I've withheld her dinner before when her service was less than perfect. I know, sounds bad, but I really have to be hard sometimes or she'll walk all over me.

"Yeah, you can try this." I cut out a bite of chicken, spear it on my fork along with some green beans and mashed potatoes, and hold it up for her.

She closes her mouth over the fork, seductively cleaning it of food as she presses her lips against the tines and slides back. "Mmm," she says, almost moaning as she chews.

I smirk as I watch her, entertained. "Earning your dinner, Elle?"

She glances at me to see if it worked.

"Okay," I allow. "You may have exactly one cup of soup. Eat at the end of the table."

She smiles. "Thanks, Ms. Bennet!"

I start eating as she goes to get her soup. It's from an extreme dieting service, so it's just a couple of mouthfuls, but slaves don't expect a lot. I manage her figure closely to make sure she stays as attractive as possible. It's okay for me to overindulge in carby starches because I have an active lifestyle hunting down bad guys, but Elle stays locked in my apartment and the only exercise she gets is having sex with me, so eating less is really what keeps her in shape.

Not for the first time, I wonder if I should have some exercise equipment brought in. Maybe one of those stationary bikes? Hell, why not get Elle a big wheel she can run in?

As I snicker to myself, she sits down with her soup and starts saying grace, head bowed. "Thank you, Ms. Bennet, for giving me this food, with which I will get more energy to serve you. And thank you, Ms. Bennet, for letting me stay in your nice warm apartment when I deserve nothing. Most of all, Ms. Bennet, thank you for making me yours and giving me a purpose in life. Amen."

"Good prayer," I mumble with my mouth full of chicken.

"Oh, thanks, Ms. Bennet." She giggles and takes a bite of soup. "I worked on it today while I was doing my chores."

I marvel at her. She really seems like a perfect slave. Of course, I've trained her to be. She used to be quite a bitch, always ordering _me_ around.

I wonder sometimes if I hadn't enslaved her, if she would have enslaved me. Oh, I know she would've if she thought she could've gotten away with it with little effort, but she was sitting cozy as my partner and didn't make the move. She did, however, get me for my birthday a steel chain necklace that looks suspiciously like a dog chain collar with a few parts swapped; I still wear it even at this exact moment, but the power differential has changed dramatically since then. Suppose she went the full nine yards?

Well, I'd be in her place. I'd be the sex slave in the collar begging for the tiniest meal. And Elle would be my mistress, but she's a sociopath, so… it'd be fucking terrifying.

It's thought experiments like that to make me confident that my enslaving Elle was the right choice. Elle shouldn't be in power. She should be in as little power as possible.

I think I'm a good mistress. I mean, I don't ever hurt my pet for no reason. All pain I inflict is specifically for training purposes. When she is good, she doesn't get punished. Too, I lead with carrot as well as stick. I give her privileges like getting to orgasm to help encourage good behaviors. Yes, I'm a good mistress.

It's not my natural inclination to own a slave. That just sort of… came about. I was trying to fix Elle at first, cure her of her sociopathy. But as any sociopath will say, what's to cure? Sociopathy really isn't a disease. She's just a different kind of person. A really fucking dangerous kind.

I enlisted the help of one of our incurables, a telepath named Maury Parkman, to assist in reforming her. I promised him slightly more agreeable accommodations if he would hack inside Elle Bishop's mind and get her to love me, like really _love_ me. That's a noble sentiment, right? Beat apathy with _love_.

But it didn't work. It couldn't work. Elle can't love me. She literally _can't_. Her brain is just incapable of comprehending that emotion. It's not her fault, but it certainly limits my options as to what to do with her.

I gave it some thought and decided that Elle was like a pet. I enjoyed her company, but she needed to be strictly controlled. Why not go all the way and make her a slave? It's not like she really counts as a person who could be abused, being a sociopath and all. She's really like an animal. Most slavery is immoral, but because Elle doesn't have a conscience, I fully believe this is moral. Or at least not immoral.

Then Elle, being Elle, had to go and escape. The bitch actually fucked my girlfriend just to hurt me and escaped at the same time. Pinehearst found her, and we dragged her back, at which point I had Maury give her a more lasting personality change.

I couldn't make her love me, but I could make her submissive. I wrote down a long list of orders Maury was to give to her. She would think about me all the fucking time, constantly be aroused in my presence, and be in awe of my power over her. In other words, the hot little psycho would _want_ to be my sex slave.

"Is everything okay, Ms. Bennet?" Elle asks. "It's not overdone, is it?"

I realize I've stopped eating. "No, no," I assure her. "You're a wonderful cook."

It's true. Her food is always enjoyable. Especially since she'd stopped trying to drug me. Rohypnol really ruins the mood. Fortunately, it just made me a little sleepy. I didn't collapse or anything. Superior constitution FTW.

"No," I continue, "It's just… Uh, I was thinking about how Damian's a vegetarian."

Damian is my latest partner. He's a memory-manipulator we recruited last year away from that goddamn carnival that skips across continents by the time we get mobilized to try to raid it. It's true he's an avowed vegan, won't touch meat. I know he would disapprove of me eating chicken. Fortunately, he's respectful of my viewpoints enough that he doesn't subject me to rants. And, ooh boy, have there been some rants from some people.

"Oh." Elle blinks. I can tell she thinks that's stupid but is smart enough not to say anything. "Should I not make chicken again? I can try and learn some vegetarian recipes."

"No, don't bother." I shake my head. "I'm a carnivore. It's just kind of weird, you know? I don't feel guilty—I'm sure you know what that's like—just kind of more aware of it."

"Okay, Ms. Bennet." She looks confused but doesn't press it.

"You know what? Come here." I wave her over.

"Yes, Ms. Bennet." She swallows the last of her soup, puts down her napkin, scoots her chair back, and comes over.

I pat my leg, and she sits down in my lap, wrapping an arm around my shoulders like I taught her. From this position, I can easily enjoy her beauty and access her mouth, which I do. When I pull back, she looks disappointed.

I resume eating, and as I do, I cast my gaze downwards to admire her breasts. When she sees, she sticks her chest out to give me a better view. Charmed, I give her a pat on the head. "Good pet."

"Thanks, Ms. Bennet!"

She really has come along well as a pet. For a while there, it looked like she would continuously try to subvert me, but all the effort finally paid off. I glance at her collar, in which is engraved 'DANGEROUS nonhuman. Pinehearst prisoner. If found, call 1-800-SPECIAL.' Beneath the collar, which _shouldn't_ be removable, the same message is tattooed on her skin. I run my finger over the words.

Elle glances down at my hand and looks up at me. She looks proud… Like, she's so badass she needs a warning label.

I smirk at her, and the look of pride vanishes. "That's right, Elle. You're a pet. The mighty have fallen, and they're wearing a collar."

She smiles a nice fake smile. "Of course, Ms. Bennet. You're way too powerful for me to be… what I was. I'm yours now and forever."

"So you are." I pat her head again, but I don't call her a good pet. That was a little too subversive for my tastes, and I make a mental note to have Maury give her another treatment.

She licks my cheek. The sensation is unexpected, but I recall I have in fact given her permission to do so. Or at least, I never rescinded permission from last night's sex. She licks again.

"Okay, enough," I say, wiping my cheek.

"Tastes so good," she whispers. She squirms in my lap.

"That's the brainwashing," I tell her. "I don't actually taste that good. You just think I do."

"I think, therefore you are tasty," she says. "Please, more. Please."

"No more until bed," I say sternly.

She pouts. It is a sexy pout.

I continue eating while she pouts. "I know you don't care about me at all…"

She says nothing.

"…But you _are_ my pet." I smile at her. "Okay. One more."

"Thanks, Ms. Bennet!" She smiles the most innocent smile. She ducks over to my neck and gives me a long lick up my face to practically my eyeball, clearly savoring every second. "Yummy…"

Well, that's not at all creepy. I wipe the side of my face thoroughly, thinking that if Elle actually did manage to turn the tables, she'd at least keep me around to lick all day. Could be worse.

She squirms again and rubs against me like the total slut she is.

"If my legs are damp by the time you stand up, I'm gonna be pissed," I warn her, and she calms down. "You're eye candy. Act like it."

"Yes, Ms. Bennet." She stretches and just shows off her curves.

I finish eating, after which I shrug her off. Standing, she immediately takes my plate to the sink to wash off. I watch her work.

There are some definite advantages to having a slave. I don't have to worry about household chores anymore. On the other hand, I do have to watch my back a bit more. Elle's normally submissive now, but the brainwashing is never perfect. This new licking thing is problematic, a sign her selfishness is becoming more dominant. She still rebels sometimes, and when it's a sociopath rebelling, people can get put in danger. I bring a hand up to my neck and stroke the chain.

_I stroked my steel necklace chain as I observed Maury go to work on Elle through the security feed. Elle was putting up a fight. Her glazed over look was punctuated by tensing and jerks of her muscles. I wondered how much he would actually affect her._

"_Elle, c'mon," I muttered. "Stop being a bitch and accept the changes."_

_But submission was not in her nature, which was the whole problem. If this didn't work, if Maury couldn't remove her domineering personality and replace it with cheerful submission, I would have to lock her up on the bottom floor. She was too fucking dangerous to let free, and it broke my heart to think of just storing her away and forgetting about her. I needed this to work._

_Finally, Maury turned away from Elle. She flopped forward, just barely managing to catch herself on the table. She blinked sleepily._

_I hit the intercom. "Elle? Are you alright?"_

_Elle tensed when she heard my voice. "Ms. Bennet? I'm fine, ma'am." She looked wondrously upwards, searching the ceiling, looking for all the world like a religious person praying for salvation. Then she saw the camera and glued her eyes to it. "I can't wait to serve you as your own personal slave, Ms. Bennet!"_

"_And why is that?" I asked, a smile growing on my face._

"_Because you're so powerful, ma'am," she gushed. "I… I have to be yours. It would be my greatest pleasure to make you happy!"_

_By this time I was grinning. "And you don't mind being a slave?"_

"_No, ma'am! I don't want to be free. I want you to keep me, Ms. Bennet. I want to be a slave!"_

_I laughed. "Then give Mr. Parkman a kiss to thank him for giving you your new personality, and go sit in the corner."_

"_Yes, Ms. Bennet!" She surged over the table and practically molested him. She never had proper understanding of personal space._

"_Okay, that's enough, Elle!" I said after half a minute went by._

_She crawled back, fixed her hair, and then went over to the corner to wait. Okay, not perfect, but some training would make her closer to my ideal pet._

_I turned to Dr. Taylor. "Tranq Maury, dose him up on power inhibitors, and take him to the isolation room. Then install the new restraints on Elle. If she resists, tell her I said it was important."_

"_And if she still resists?" the doctor asked._

_I sighed. "If she still resists, treat her like an incurable."_

"_Yes, ma'am."_

_I stepped out of the room and went down to the coffee machine. I got a cup, sipped it. It tasted awful._

_After killing time, I walked down to the isolation room. Maury was knocked out, and I had a handler give him something to wake up. I was warned that it could be unhealthy for him, but I waved it off. Maury was an incurable. I just needed him for this one job._

_It was a stupid move. I should have considered the fact that I'd need him again. Fortunately, it didn't hurt him too bad._

_I stepped into the room as he was standing up. "So, progress report?"_

_He blinked groggily, yawned, and stretched. "Claire? Oh… right. Elle, yes. Well, she's a piece of work, I'll tell you that."_

"_Did it work?" I said, getting to the point._

"_Hard to say." Maury stroked his chin. With another yawn, he got down to business, "She's very good at looking a certain way, but that doesn't mean she feels it. To use a cliché, she knows the words but not the music. I keep whispering instructions in her head, 'you like being submissive', 'you are in awe of Ms. Bennet's power', and she says she's submissive and that you're very powerful. She says it very convincingly, and if I hadn't had a look 'round her head, I'd believe her."_

"_So, you think she's lying."_

"_Hmm. My best guess is that she believes it for the moment, but that she's lying to herself and will eventually snap out of it. Not my fault. If I went into the head of some average girl on the street and gave her the treatment I gave Elle, she'd be your loyal sex slave forever and ever. Elle, on the other hand… She's not built to be a victim. She's a monster like you and me. She'll—" _

"_I'm nothing like you and Elle," I snapped._

_He raised an eyebrow but didn't object. "Okay. She'll eventually revert back to her usual controlling self. I don't need to tell you how dangerous she'll be when that happens."_

_Goosebumps crawled up my arm. She was scary enough without wanting revenge for my attempt to enslave her. I didn't want to think about what Elle would try to do to me… The idea of gang rape came to mind, as well as being eaten alive by ants. Elle doubtlessly could think up a punishment for me ten times worse. I couldn't allow that to happen, and I wouldn't just lock her up if I could help it. "Her reverting is not an option," I asserted. "If her treatment starts coming undone, you'll just have to do it again."_

"_It would be much simpler with a normal mind," he said. "If I were to brainwash Gretchen, it'd be permanent."_

"_Never speak that name again," I said, realizing he must have grabbed the info from Elle's mind. "Gretchen is off-limits. Only Elle. I don't care how hard it is. I want Elle!"_

"You're _mine_," I growl, eying Elle intently as she dries off the plate.

She smiles big. "Yes, Ms. Bennet! I'm yours."

"I want you on the bed naked in ten seconds," I order.

Elle looks excited. Putting down the dish, she dashes toward my bedroom.

"Slut," I mutter affectionately under my breath as I extinguish the flame with my fingers. I follow her slowly, taking my time. I lick my lips.


	3. Chapter 3

"_Don't worry, Jeremy," I said. "Everything will be okay."_

_The boy looked at me with a mixture of anger and, behind it, pain. He wanted to trust me, but he was afraid to. He'd been hurt too often by people who didn't understand him._

_But I was different. I could understand him. I had to get him to realize that I could be family to him, a sister. He could have a home. He could finally feel safe. _

_So, I took a chance. I stretched out my hand and offered it to him._

"_Claire!" Elle hissed in warning. She raised her gun defensively._

"_It's fine," I said, both to her and to the boy, who looked at my hand as if it contained a bomb._

_The boy looked at Elle and then turned back to me. He looked at my hand. He lifted his own hand and reached it forward to take mine… and then his brains were blown out. His lifeless body fell to the ground._

"_Jeremy!" I screamed. He was going to give up and come with us. He had a life. He could have gotten better!_

"_He's dead, Claire," Elle said, calmly holstering her gun._

_I looked at the murderous girl. She had a grin plastered on her face like she won a round of Halo. I ran up to her and grabbed her. She tried to kiss me, but I turned my face away. _

"_Stop it," I snapped. "This isn't about sex! How could you do that? He was going to come quietly."_

"_No, he was going to kill you," she said, looking annoyed. "He was a stupid, emo killer. Incurable, highly dangerous. Claire, I just saved your life. How many times am I going to be able to say that? I'd like to hear at least a 'thank you', preferably accompanied by you doing some of the things in bed you said you wouldn't. I did save your life and all."_

"_He wouldn't have even tried to kill me," I said, shaking my head. "I got through to him. He wasn't… He wouldn't…"_

_Elle kissed me. It wasn't a comforting gesture. It was very lustful, which was so inappropriate I wrenched my mouth away in disgust._

"_What? God, don't be a bitch, Claire," she said. "Show some gratitude."_

_My mouth dropped open. "You just took a life, Elle! Say it! You have to at least say it."_

_She looked amused. "I took a life. I killed Jeremy Greer. I sent him to meet his maker. I extinguished his spark. Bereft of life; he's ceased to be. He rests in peace. Happy, Claire?"_

"_No, no, no! I'm not happy," I said, trying to get through to her. "You're not saying it right."_

_She wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me up against her. "And what aren't I saying right?" she purred, licking her lips. She seemed determined to make this about getting laid._

"_You have to mean it," I whispered, trying not to get turned on like she wanted me to. "You have to feel something. You have to care about something… someone."_

"_I care about you, Claire," she said, stroking my cheek with the back of her fingers. "I could have let Jeremy kill you before I killed him. I could have any partner I want. I want you."_

"_You don't care about me! You just want to have sex!"_

"_I do want to have sex," she agreed. "And I care. You're a good friend, Claire. I treasure our relationship." She smiled._

_I wasn't fooled. Everything seemed so clear now. She didn't care about me, or if she did it was only as a fun toy. She was a sociopath. She lived only to feed her own pleasure. She was a monster, an incurable no different from the scum we hunted. She just managed to get herself in a cozy position._

_Suddenly, the friendship chain around my neck felt a lot like a collar. I was just a… pet to her. That's all our relationship was. She was the one in control, which meant she controlled fucking Pinehearst. I opened my mouth to tell her to get the hell away from me…_

"_I'm sorry. You're right, Elle," I said instead. "I made a mistake with Jeremy. I should have trusted your judgment."_

_I couldn't let her know I knew. I couldn't let her make a plan, get away. I had to grab her quickly before she knew she had a problem. I needed to play along for the time being._

_She grinned and pulled me into an even tighter embrace. "Don't worry, I forgive you." She licked her lips. "You'll just have to think of some way to repay me!"_

Elle rests comfortably stretched on my bed, having removed everything she could. Her body is a lovely present of warm pink flesh trapped in cool grey metal. The sultry minx shoots me a come hither look and twists her body invitingly. Who am I to refuse?

I begin undressing. I pull off my clothes and just toss them to the floor. Elle will clean the place tomorrow anyway. Finally, I am naked save for the heavy chain necklace I hardly ever take off since making Elle my pet. It looks similar to her collar, making us somewhat a matching set with obvious hierarchal differences.

I sit down on the side of the bed, smile at her, and then crawl on top of her. I hold her down much in the way she used to hold me down. I kiss her, not roughly, but gently. This is sex with Elle my way.

Removing my lips from hers, I move down to plant a kiss on her chin, and then her collar, and then her collarbone, and then between her breasts. Lower still, I plant kisses down her belly. I keep going until my lips are between her legs and pressing against the cool metal of Elle's chastity belt.

I tilt my head so I'm looking Elle in the eye as she looks across her body at me. "You want me to take this off." I mean it to come out as a question, an invitation, but it comes out as a statement of simple fact.

"Yes," she whispers.

"How much?" I tease, enjoying the look of need. Back when we were partners, we'd have sex from time to time—mostly whenever Elle made a kill and got really horny—but it was all on her terms. She'd just throw me into various positions and bark orders at me. Now it's incredibly satisfying to see her as the submissive one.

"More than anything," she admits. Her legs stretch wider. "Please, Ms. Bennet. Take it off."

I reach up to my necklace, from which hangs two items. One is a remote, which activates Elle's shock collar when I need to discipline her. The other is a small silver key, which fits in the lock of her chastity belt. I take the key and slip it in the lock but don't turn it. "And once I take it off, is there anything you want me to do?"

"Make love to me," she whispers. "Please."

There was a time when she would have used a vulgar term like 'fuck' or 'screw' or 'bang', but I've trained that out of her. My new Elle is polite and sweet.

With a click, the lock opens. I slip the belt off her, taking a moment to admire the device. Dr. Taylor really did a good job with it. In addition to its primary purpose of ending all unauthorized sexual intercourse, it was designed to daily secrete a collection of power-neutralizing chemicals Elle would absorb vaginally, as well as containing a GPS locator to track her leaving the premises in the event she ever tries to escape again. It's an all-in-one sociopathic special taming device.

I didn't always have it. When I first started out, she was as sexually free as anyone. That turned out to be a problem.

At the time, Elle was working at Pinehearst with me as my secretary. I thought that the collar would be enough to keep her in her place, but I was naïve. I gave her too much power, and she used it to try and take me down.

I had a girlfriend. This film student named Gretchen became my fan on Facebook and things picked up from there. She was into specials, especially special queer women. She liked the way I was strong but femme and we hit it off.

Then I introduced her to Elle. Gretchen never got past the whole slavery thing even when I explained how Elle's a sociopath and would do the same to us if she had a chance.

"_Obviously, I wouldn't or I would've done it already," Elle retorted when I first explained my rationale for enslaving her. "Shit, I'm kinky, but I'd never…" She tugged on her collar, the first collar I gave her. This one was simplistic, just a metal ring, and I could still see her throat._

"_But you wouldn't have any qualms," I said, pressing the issue. "If I was your slave, would you release me because you'd never be that kinky?"_

_She shrugged. "Well, if you arrived at my doorstep all chained up, I might not refuse you. I mean, if you're a present, someone powerful must be interested in me, and I shouldn't offend them. But, that never happened. We weren't in that situation. You and me, we had a good thing going. Pinehearst's top agents. You need my power and ability to make life or death decisions without that clumsy thing called empathy holding me back."_

"_No, I don't." I shook my head. "What I need is a friend, Elle. That's what I thought we were: friends. I was wrong." I took a step forward and cupped her chin. "But I don't have to be. Just do what I tell you and we can be best friends, Elle."_

Best friends. Yeah, right. She played the part while she laid low and scoured me for weaknesses, anything to gain a foothold. When I introduced her to Gretchen, she found it.

By talking to Gretchen after the fact, we pieced the story together. Gretchen talked to Elle alone after I left the room. Gretchen tried to figure out if Elle was as bad as I made her out to be, and Elle pretended she wasn't. Elle made it out like I was crazy and she was an innocent victim, and Gretchen didn't know Elle well enough to tell her lies from fact.

Gretchen started bringing presents for Elle when she'd show up for our dates. I tolerated it at the time because I thought it was just like bringing dog treats. In truth, Gretchen felt sorry for Elle and wanted to rescue her. I never made the connection that Elle's also a strong but femme queer woman with powers, and Gretchen ended up falling for her.

One day, Gretchen smuggled in some bolt cutters cleverly disguised as a submarine sandwich and snapped off Elle's collar. They ran off together, but not before Elle killed two guards. They were smart and stayed hidden for a few weeks, but Gretchen slipped up when she called her mother from a motel phone. Didn't she ever see _The Terminator_?

Pinehearst seized the motel, and the Haitian and I went to confront them. Just as we were about to go in the room, the Haitian steered me off to the side and challenged my whole slavery bit. It didn't go particularly well, and he later resigned.

"_Claire, what is it about psychopaths you find so objectionable?"_

_I gave him a look. "Are you serious? Well, it could have something to do with the lack of conscience, guilt, that sort of thing."_

_He nodded as if trying to understand. "So, it is what they feel that matters? It is not the actions they may pursue? Murder, theft, rape; these do not matter?"_

_I gasped indignantly. "Of course they matter! That's the whole point! When you don't have a conscience—like Elle—you don't see anything wrong with them. Elle is a murderer!"_

_He nodded again, and it struck me how condescending the action was. "And you believe the crime of murder should be punishable by forfeit of freedom?"_

"_Well, yeah," I said. "That's kind of the point of prison. My prison's just more effective when dealing with a sociopath."_

_He smiled gently. "Claire, on October 4__th__, 2006, you got into a car with a boy named Brody Mitchum. Previously, you admitted to your friend Zachary that this Brody attempted to rape you. You specifically asked to drive him home from school… and you drove the car into a wall at top speed. You knew that you would survive. Claire, why are you still free?"_

_My blood turned to ice at the first mention of Brody's name. "You can't compare what I did to what Elle… He was a rapist! He hurt other girls and he would have done it again if I didn't… I'm not being inconsistent."_

"_No, you still feel you can take the law into your own hands and make judgments on others' lives," he said. "You are very consistent, Claire Bennet."_

"_Well, you're very arrogant, Mr. Whatever-the-hell-your-name-is! Has anyone ever tried to rape you? Have ever had to deal with… a… a… a rapist walking around and you can't tell anyone because you don't have proof and it's your word against his and everyone will just believe him, and you can't stand to have everyone talking about it and judging you? Have you ever been there? Well, let me ask you this: have you ever loved someone and found out they were evil? That they would never love you back? That they would kill and feel nothing? You have no right to judge me!"_

"_I have not been in those situations, Ms. Bennet," he said stiffly, sliding back into his role as subordinate. "However, my ancestors were slaves of men who believed us less than human. They would bring a whole people into slavery because they believed themselves superior."_

"_I'm sorry about your ancestors," I said, trying to keep the anger from my voice. This was a serious topic he was discussing, after all. "I really am. But what's going on here is nothing like that. Those French racists weren't any superior just for being white, and they had no right to do any of that, but you and I are superior to Elle because we have consciences. She has no rights, as far as I'm concerned."_

"_Because she is dangerous?"_

"_Because she's evil," I said. "And dangerous. That's a combo there. Are we done?"_

"_One thing more, Ms. Bennet," he said. "Suppose a psychopath like Elle were to… abduct someone to rape… You would consider this psychopath… How would you say it? You would not find it immoral to enslave this psychopath as you have Elle?"_

"_Evil is evil," I said. "She doesn't deserve freedom."_

_He chuckled. "Evil is evil? Well, suppose I was wrong about the rapist's psychopathy. Suppose I misread her, and she did have a conscience. She simply believed her victim fundamentally beneath her because of physical properties the victim never had any control over."_

"_I know what you're getting at," I hissed with disgust. "My God, I can't believe you're comparing me to a… slaver and… a psychopath!"_

"_You can't?" He shrugged. "You obviously are attracted to the psychopathic. Perhaps you are more similar than you believe."_

"_You're out of line," I barked. "You just don't like it. It grosses you out, owning another human being. In most cases, yes, slavery is bad 100 percent. Not in this case. Not with sociopaths. You're just trying to justify a gut feeling. It's this wisdom of repugnance bullshit that's responsible for so many stupid anti-special laws. Give me a break."_

"_Are you saying that my empathy clouds my judgment?" he asked. "That it is better to be cold and apathetic? You value psychopathic traits, in other words."_

"_You're twisting my meaning," I said, gritting my teeth. "It's not just one or the other. Conscience is important, but you have to keep rational. You have to… Look, let's just do this, okay?"_

_The Haitian and I confronted the two in their room. Gretchen launched herself at me, calling me a monster for imprisoning poor Elle. The Haitian started to intervene, but I waved him off and let Gretchen pummel me until she worked off her anger. Pain's never bothered me that much. I then had the Haitian take her outside to interrogate while I disciplined Elle, lightning-less from the Haitian's influence._

"_I bet you're proud of yourself right now," I said, setting my toolbox down on the bed. The bed was disheveled and clearly Gretchen and Elle had sex on it recently. Great. "Poisoning Gretchen against me. That's low even for you, Elle."_

"_You poisoned her against you yourself," Elle replied. "You're the slaver here, 'Ms. Bennet'. It's natural for the empathic to take issue with that. Maybe you should just fuck sociopaths. You wanna?"_

"_You're shameless," I muttered, opening the toolbox._

"_What's in the box? Another collar? Maybe it's a whip 'cause I've been a bad girl." She crawled up on the bed so she faced me, giving me a good view of her breasts as she tried to peer in the box._

"_Actually, it's a box cutter." I raised the implement and extended the blade. "'Cause you've been a bad girl."_

_I watched as uncertainty flashed through her eyes. I'd been very nice to her so far, but I'd had it with nice. A point needed to be made._

_No pun intended._

_She tried to jerk back, but I grabbed onto her arm and pulled her down on the bed. I climbed on the bed with her and wrestled her down on her back. I sat on her stomach, pinning her down and leveled the blade at her face. "Don't. You. Move."_

_Eyes wide, she looked cross-eyed at the blade. "...What are you going to do?"_

"_Open your mouth," I ordered without answering._

_She shook her head no, clamping her jaw shut._

"_Open your mouth," I hissed. "Or this ends up in your eye."_

_Softly gasping, she opened up just the slightest amount._

_I moved my hand so the blade now pointed at her throat from the side. Moving my face close to hers, I studied the terror in her eyes, and then I kissed her._

_I felt Elle's body relax. She no longer looked afraid. She kissed me back._

_Kicking it up a notch, I slipped my tongue into her mouth. Elle responded in kind. She tasted of Gretchen… Withdrawing my tongue from her mouth, I clamped my teeth down on her tongue, making her grunt. I pulled my head back, staring into her slightly confused lustful eyes. I slid the blade between our pairs of lips, severing Elle's tongue cleanly._

_Elle screamed at the top of her lungs. Blood spurted from her mouth and ended up all across my face._

_I sat up and spat the bit of tongue I held at her. "That's for fucking my girlfriend."_

_She just wailed pitifully._

_Wiping my face on my sleeve, I slid off of her and the bed. I walked over to the toolbox and put the now-bloodied box cutter back. I took out a syringe. After depressing it to remove the air, I stuck it in my arm and took a blood sample. "Hey, Elle, want your tongue back?"_

_She stopped screaming and just stared at me. I couldn't read her expression. She looked blank. Not like she was confused, but more like she just decided not to bother to change her face to match her thoughts right then._

"_This is my blood, Elle," I explained in case she wasn't following. "Just a bit of it'll give you your tongue back."_

_She rolled over and propped herself up on her arms. Blood covered her face and torso and it now flowed freely from her mouth and dripped on my shoes. She extended her arm._

_I grabbed her forearm and injected my blood into her veins. "Won't be long now."_

_She sputtered and gasped as her tongue grew back. "Who are you? That chick from Misery?" she spoke as soon as she could. The joke was flat, muted. Her spirit had been tamed._

"_I'm your number-one fan," I quipped as I put the syringe away. "I really am, you know. If I didn't care about you, you'd be worse than tongue-less right now."_

_Elle's blank eyes stared into mine. They didn't look like the typical sociopaths' eyes. Most sociopaths look angry beyond angry. She was the type that looked like everyone else. Her eyes didn't look normal or aggressive then, though, just… dead. "If I had you as my slave, I'd keep you in good condition too," she said slowly. "I'd want to make you suffer for as long as I could. Maybe that's why you healed me."_

"_It isn't," I assured her. I reached over and wiped the blood from her lips. "I honestly care about you, Elle."_

"_Does it matter?" she asked. "You could be Samuel Sullivan for all the good it does me."_

"_Sullivan would be a horrible master," I said. "I'm good, Elle. I'll take care of you. Just do everything I tell you and don't act out again, and I promise things will be better for you. Okay?"_

_She blinked. "Okay," she said softly, like a little girl might sound after crying when told everything's alright. "I'll be your slave, Ms. Bennet."_

_I hugged her, pulling her head onto my shoulder. "Good girl," I whispered encouragingly. "That's a good girl."_

Elle squeals with ecstasy as I bring her to orgasm.

I sit up and grin at her. "There's your little reward for being a good girl."

"Thanks, Ms. Bennet," she says in a contented sing-song, a smile stretched across her face. Her smile fades as I put the chastity belt back on and click the lock into place.

"Now, don't pout," I admonish.

I know Elle hates the belt. She used to whine and complain all the time about it, asking why she couldn't take 'Haitian pills' and wear an ankle monitor, but the real beauty of the belt is the part she hates so vehemently. She can't properly orgasm with the thing on. As she's a very horny creature, that makes her motivated to do whatever it takes to get off, which would be to be a good girl and serve her Ms. Bennet. Though the initial introduction of the belt marked a rise in aggression, it ultimately paid off by making her more docile.

"Yes, Ms. Bennet."

I crawl back up to face her and kiss her deeply. "Now your turn."

Licking her lips, Elle eagerly gets to work. She takes her time; doing everything she can to give me the most pleasure. With her belt locked on, her primary source of pleasure is from making me happy, just as should be with a good slave. I shudder as her moist tongue runs over my sensitive skin.

"Good slave," I whisper. "Good girl."

She is. She was troublesome for a long time, but I've really made her better. I just need to keep the mind treatments regular and everything should be fine.

I don't feel guilty as I use her for sex. I know that sounds like a suspiciously specific denial, but I really don't. I'm just aware of the taboo of it all.

The truth is this is me being merciful. What should be done is… Well, the electric chair would be ironic, but… Really. She's incurable. I'm sparing her life. I'm a humanitarian.

If I stop Elle and ask her if she's thankful, she'll agree. I've made her want to… I've made her want this. She didn't always, but… She does now. That's who she is now. She's…

"_You think you're so noble and virtuous," Elle said with a sneer. This was shortly after her obedience training began. She wasn't so thankful then. "Claire the Merciful. I know you better than that. You're no hero. Look at me long and hard, Claire. You are me."_

"_I'm nothing like you," I spat. "You're a sociopath."_

"_And so are you, Claire." She winked. "Claire the Sociopath. I like it. Claire the Psycho. Ooh, I like that more. How's it feel to be a psycho, Claire? It feels great, doesn't it? The world at your fingertips? I bet you're-"_

_I hit my remote, activating her shock collar and giving her a taste of her own medicine. I could have released the button after only a second, but I kept pressing to show her why it was important to make me happy._

_She shrieked. Grabbing at her neck, she tried to claw off the collar to no avail. "Fuck you," she sobbed as foreign electricity assaulted her body. "Fuck! You!"_

"I love you," I whisper in her ear. I mean it, though not in a romantic way. I love Elle the same way my mom loved Mr. Muggles. Sexual activities notwithstanding.

It's shortly after we finished lovemaking. I turned off the lights, and we started cuddling in bed. I could have locked Elle in her cage, but I want her on the bed tonight. It feels more real this way, like she's just my girlfriend.

"I love you too," she whispers back. I don't doubt she does, for the best a person like her is able to love. After all, she is dependent on me and conditioned to put my needs first, like a dog. What could that be to a sociopath if not love?

I frown as I spot a tear trickle down from her eye. She is supposed to be well past the self-pitying stage. In the morning I'll have to get Maury to give her mind another treatment. In the morning. For now, I pull Elle close and relax in her warmth.


End file.
